The Mind of the Heart
by MooLoon
Summary: AU to Devil's trap. When Casper's in trouble whose he going to call?...a Winchester.
1. You're no girl

**Disclaimer: We don't own Sam and Dean, but we do like to fantasize and play. We also do not own Casper and the gang. Please don't sue us. It would not be in your favor. All we own are a few good ideas and lint. You can have the lint! **

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"You know if you wanted to tie me up, all you had to do was ask," a pixie blonde girl teased to her three captors, who stood vigil over her. The rope binding her to the chair bit through her red leather jacket and into her wrists, drawing a little blood. But she didn't flinch. Demons normally cared less to what happened to their hosts.

The spiky dirty blond hunter dressed in a blue over-shirt with biker boots and jeans approached her cautiously, but determined. His expression was unreadable.

"Where's our father, Meg?" he asked calmly.

"You didn't ask very nice," the girl now known as Meg replied.

"Where's our father, bitch?"

"Ooh jeez, you kiss your mother with that mouth. Oh wait I forgot, you don't," she mocked, giving him a menacing smile.

"You think this is a freakin' game. Where is he? What did you do to him?" he bellowed, his voice dangerous. He bent down resting his arms on the creaky chair arms, his fiercesome green eyes boring into the girl's chocolate ones. The demon residing inside her laughed mirthlessly. "He died screaming. I killed him myself."

She saw his eyes flash and his lips quiver. Though she shouldn't have been, she was surprised when he reached back his hand and swung it at her face. She gasped. Her cheek tinged with pink as the impact jarred her head to the side. She forced out a smile turning back to him, ready to mock him again. Because that's what demons do.

"That's kind of a turn on. You hitting a girl," she whispered.

"You're no girl."

"Dean," a gruff voice called from behind. He turned around and saw it was his father's old friend, Bobby Singer, who spoke. Bobby strode forward and grasped him by the bicep luring him into the next room.

"Are you ok?" his tall, gangly brother Sam asked following them across the threshold.

"She's lying. He's not dead," Dean answered out loud, more to convince himself than the others.

Bobby gazed upon the two boys with concern, smoothing out his tattered hunting vest. "Dean, you gotta be careful with her. Don't hurt her."

"Why?"

"Because she really is a girl, that's why."

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked.

"She's possessed. That's a human possessed by a demon. Can't you tell," he explained adjusting his worn-out baseball cap.

Dean stared at the old man stunned trying to comprehend what he was just told. "You're trying to tell me there's an innocent girl trapped in there somewhere."

Bobby nodded as Dean peered at the girl, who was now wrestling with her bonds shifting the arms of the chair from side to side. He wasn't entirely concerned because she was sitting under a "Key of Solomon", also known as a devil's trap. The symbols inside the emblem act as containing agents to trap evil beings, and keep them against their will. No way she could free herself from the powers of Solomon. He turned back to the old man. "That's actually good news."

All three men gathered around surrounding the girl they intend to set free. Meg gaped at them interested.

"You going to read me a story," she asked watching the shaggy chestnut-haired hunter opening a large tome.

"Something like that. Hit it Sam," he said gazing at his little brother.

Immediately Sam began to read the Latin passages written in the book out loud. "Regnat terre cantate dio. Somena domino…"

The demon turned back to Dean surprised. "An exorcism. Are you serious?"

"Oh we're going for it baby. Head spinning. Projectile vomiting. The whole nine yards," Dean stated glaring at her threateningly.

Meg grimaced as Sam continued to read from the passage pacing from side to side behind her chair. The pain from the separation spell flowed through the possessed body, twisting and tearing at the muscles underneath. Several of the golden amulets she wore jostled around as her body began to tremble. She looked back up at Dean shaking a few strands of her short hair out of her eyes taking a deep breath.

"I'm gonna kill you. I'm gonna rip the bones from your body," she threatened through clenched teeth. She smiled inwardly. _Stupid hunters. You think you know everything. Like everything is supposed to be out of the book._

Dean shook his head. "No, you're gonna burn in Hell, unless you tell us where our dad is."

She remained silent, wanting to enjoy his anxiousness another moment before she tried a trick or two, before the exorcism had its chance.

"Well, at least you'll get a nice tan."

Meg's eyes glinted. "I don't think so."

Suddenly, Meg released some of her hidden power, shattering the chair; its arms and legs clung to her limbs. She swung out, the arm of the chair striking Dean across his temple. He was unconscious before he hit the ground. Bobby ran forward and she swung her arm out again. Her telekinetic energy escaped the confines of the circle slamming into the old man. He sailed through the air and landed in his china cabinet, falling to the ground along with a shower of glass and porcelain shards. Meg whirled around and used the same power against the remaining hunter. The book flew out of his hands as he catapulted across the room and through a window. She smirked at the sound of a crash and a car alarm going off. She walked forward but stopped, unable to step outside the circle. She uttered a Latin passage her father taught her. A crack in the ceiling appeared causing a rip to run through the painted symbols, thus releasing her from the trap.

She stalked towards her unconscious enemies intending on keep her promise of filleting them.

"Find the gun," a stern voice echoed in her head, halting her in her tracks.

She rolled her eyes at the voice. "Fine," she grumbled.

After searching the motionless bodies inside the house, she was disappointed it was on neither of them. She gave Dean one final kick with her boot and strode out of the house.

She saw the youngest hunter lying awkwardly on one of the immobile vehicles. The car alarm sung incessantly stirring a deep ache to her ear cavity. She swung her arm out and a mechanical device ripped out of the grill, silencing the annoying cacophony. She approached the boy, admiring the blood splattered against the splintered windshield. She lifted her hand and the boys' jacket flapped open revealing the Colt, the gun her father feared the most, tucked safely in his pocket. She nodded her head and the object of destruction flew into her hands.

"So this is the infamous Colt," She said rotating the gun in her palm, admiring Samuel Colt's craftsmanship. She smiled; relishing in the fact her father would praise her for accomplishing her duty. Within a flash, she disappeared, taking the boy's only hope in saving their father with her.

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**Several Hours Later:**

A throbbing ache in his side stirred Dean from the encompassing sense of unconsciousness. It took maybe a moment to realize he was lying on the dusty floorboards of Bobby's house. An involuntary groan escaped his lips as he lifted himself to his knees. A cloudy haze coalesced behind his vision causing a slight case of vertigo. A distant groan he heard from the other room forced him to his feet racing to see who it was.

"Bobby. Bobby," he called upon seeing his mentor lying in a pile of glass and papers. He kneeled beside the old man and took his pulse, relieved that he found one.

Bobby opened his eyes to slits feeling two fingers press against the corner of his neck. He saw it was Dean and gave a weak smile. "M'okay, boy," he whispered.

"Yeah, I'm just checkin'," Dean slurred. "Come on, let's get you up." He pulled on the man's brute arms, pulling him into a sitting position.

The veranda outside creaked noisily causing them to look up. They waited with apprehension for the intruder to make their appearance. Only they were half-relieved when a scratched-up bloody Sam clutching the back of his head stumbled through the door.

"M-Meg t-took the colt," he whispered weakly to them before falling to the ground unconscious.

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**Please review if you want to. You know you want to. That purple little button is calling to you, you cannot resist it. Press it! Remember this is our first fanfic, so constructive criticism would be nice. But good reviews would be like chocolate ice cream on a hormonal day.**

**Remember this is an AU and it's also written for an audience unfamiliar with Supernatural and Casper.**


	2. Kat on a Hot Tin Roof

**Disclaimer:** **We don't own Sam and Dean, but we do like to fantasize and play. We also do not own Casper and the gang. Please don't sue us. It would not be in your favor. All we own are a few good ideas and lint. You can have the lint! **

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**Three Weeks Later:**

"Damn ghosts," Kat Harvey muttered to herself as she loaded an arm full of junk food on the counter.

"What was that, Dear?" the elderly convenience store clerk asked in mid-ring of the Oreo cookies.

"Oh nothing," Kat replied giving the old woman a weak smile.

The old woman shook her head. "These are a lot of sweets. Are these for your children?"

"Yeah, actually its for a bunch of children," Kat answered sarcastically flipping her dark hair behind her back.

Finally, the clerk rang up the last item and gave the total. Kat's dark eyes widened with shock at the astronomical price. _Those jerks owe me big time. This better keep them off my back. Only they would want food at two o'clock in the morning. _She paid for the groceries and with a final nod to the clerk; she grabbed the two giant paper bags and headed out into the cold-night air.

She glanced back at the store. The old woman was still staring at her causing her to grimace. _The woman must think I'm nuts._ She ignored it and continued toward her car. She was used to the stares. Friendship, Maine was a nice small town. In fact, it was too small. Everyone knew everyone and they all knew Kat. They knew to stay away from her because they considered her strange. It probably didn't help that she was usually caught talking to herself. _If they only knew the truth. Living with four ghosts can do that to you._

She reached her car, but realized her keys were stashed deep in her jeans pocket. She had just placed the bags on the ground when an eerie shiver ran through spine, like someone sliding an icy finger down her back. She leapt up and spun around. But all she saw was an empty parking lot.

"Hello," she called. "Guys, is that you?"

She waited, but no one materialized in front of her. She ignored it and turned back around when she felt hot air breathing down her neck. Her head jerked to the side and again found no one. Alarmed, she fumbled with her keys in trying to pull them out. Her hands shook with fear in trying to insert the key to unlock the car's door.

"Come on," she breathed.

Finally she heard the click and threw open the door. She tossed in the bags and quickly hopped in the front seat, slamming the door beside her. Taking a deep breath she scanned her surroundings and again found no one. She closed her eyes and rested her head on the steering wheel.

"What the hell is wrong with me?" she said out loud. She took another deep breath and started the car, heading towards home.

A little ways down the road; she let out a hearty laugh_. How stupid can I be? There was no one there. You would think I would be fearless by now since I live with four ghosts. I can't believe it's been thirteen years since that fateful day at Whipstaff. It's not everyday an average person can say their first true friends were ghosts…well one real friend, the others I'd trade for a Popsicle any day. _

"Casper," she muttered, smiling at the image of her short bald transparent friend.

_The only real reason I haven't left yet_. _But what was that thing at the store. If it really was nothing then why in the hell do I still have a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach? _

She pulled into the manor's driveway and turned off the engine.

"Hey guys," she hollered grabbing the bags and closing the door. "Hey, I'm back. Come help me." She looked at the mansion and saw only two lights were on. She sighed at seeing no movement course through the house or any ethereal spirit float through the walls. One bag began to slip from her grasp as she waddled onto the front porch

"Damn it Guys," Kat yelled finally reached the front door. She stopped when suddenly it felt like someone was squeezing her chest; all the air was forced out of her lungs. The bags of groceries fell from her arms, its contents spilling across the porch. Her vision began to swim, and then all went black.

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The sound of the Vacuum cleaner has been the only sound Casper heard for the last three hours. That's how long he spent in trying to clean up Fatso, Stinky and Stretch's room; and have yet to make a dent in the filth. The machine screeched suddenly and automatically cut off. Annoyed, Casper went to investigate. He stuck his hand through the vacuum's tube and grasped at something slippery plastered against the filter. He pulled it out and found that it was a rotten banana peel.

"Eww gross" Casper cried out scrunching up his nose. _Why are my uncles such pigs? _

"Damn it guys" a muffled voice called from outside. He sighed with relief knowing that Kat was home_. _Anytime there was a sense of stability and peace around the manor; it was when she was present. She made his death more bearable, and he wouldn't give it up for anything in the entire world.

"Coming," he yelled floating through the floor heading towards the door.

THUMP

Casper paused hearing something drop outside the door. He quickened his pace and floated through the door, skidding to a halt once he saw Kat standing on the porch with her head bowed and the groceries scattered on the porch.

"Kat. Sorry I didn't get here faster. What happened?" Casper asked inching closer. Kat didn't respond.

"Kat?"

Kat slowly raised her head and looked at him. He jumped back alarmed at the state of her eyes. They were empty; her pupils were missing.

"Kat?" He exclaimed. Still there was no answer; which scared him deep down to the pit of his soul.

" I am afraid she can't answer you," a tantalizing voice spoke from the right. Casper turned towards the voice. Standing there in the darkness was a tall, slender girl with pixie blonde hair. She wore a black leather jacket zipped all the way up, with black leather pants. Her boots made a clicking noise as she stepped out of the darkness and onto the porch.

He gazed at her fearfully. She gave off a pulsating bad vibe that he could feel surrounding him. "Who are you?" he asked suspiciously.

The girl began to circle around the two, keeping a condescending stare on Casper. He moved defensively in front of Kat, hoping to protect her from the suspicious character.

"Awww…How touching?" the girl snickered.

"I'll ask again. Who are you and what did you do to Kat?" Casper growled. He had never been so scared, nor as angry before.

"It's funny how the legend is always so much more than the man. I have to say Casper, I'm a little under-whelmed," she said.

Casper's eyes widened. "How…how do you know my name?"

"I get around. But I'm not here to chit-chat."

"Then what do you want?"

She produced a wicked smile, eying him with glee. "I'm here to make a deal. I've heard about your little 'ghost-to-ghost' network, and I'm a little intrigued."

The girl watched as the tiny spirits face contorted into a confused expression. She continued to circle, keeping the ghost on edge. "You see Casper, there's a war coming. And like in any kind of war, there are always two sides. The one side with the most benefits wins. You following me here?"

Casper's confusion increased ten-fold. He really disliked where this was going. The girl continued.

"It's important to be on the right side, like say the one with the most recruitments, the most benefits, a sure fire way of winning."

"What is this war about? Against who?" Casper asked, his voice quivering.

"I'll tell you when you're older. But right now I need something from you," she said emphatically. "I want the ghost-world on my side, fighting for us. They made a nasty habit of shutting me out their front door…"

"I wonder why. You just scream friendly," he said sarcastically, finding a little strength in his own voice.

The girl placed a hand across her chest. "Ouch, Casper, I'm hurt," she mocked.

"What makes you think I'm willing to help you," he said sourly.

She gave a venomous smile walking towards them.

"STAY AWAY," Casper shouted angrily flying at her with his tiny fist raised. But his ethereal form just passed right through her. He yelped as his spirit came into contact with the thing inside. He couldn't describe it, but a severe chill swept through him sending tiny spasms throughout.

The girl came up behind Kat leaning onto her shoulder whispering into her ear, whilst stealthily slipping something into her pocket.

"G-get a-away," Casper screamed petrified.

The girl backed off and nodded at Kat, who then reached into her jacket pocket and took out a switchblade.

"Because if you don't do what I say, Kat will kill herself," the girl said menacingly.

Casper looked on in horror as Kat opened the knife and slowly started to slide it across her left wrist. He looked back at the girl whose eyes were now coal-black. He gasped. _What is she?_ He turned back to Kat.

"KAT STOP. STOP THIS NOW," he screamed, hoping, praying she would listen.

His pleas had not penetrated the fog that clouded Kat's mind, and she continued to run the knife over her wrist, trickles of blood oozing freely from the wounds.

Casper turned back to the girl. "PLEASE STOP. Okay, I'll listen."

The girl nodded her head again and Kat stopped, dropping her hands to her sides. The girl gazed at him interested.

"Why are you doing this?" he squealed. If he could cry, he would be doing it now.

"Because I've seen the two of you together. And I know that either one of you would do absolutely anything for each other. No other ghost has that relationship. So I'm just using it to my advantage," she explained.

"But I don't have any power in the ghost world. No one will listen to me. My own uncles won't even listen to me. It'll be a cold day in Hell once they do," he replied.

"You'll think of something. That is if you want to see Kat alive again," she threatened nodding again at Kat

Kat bent down to retrieve something from the pile of groceries.

Casper was about to fly at them again when Kat swung out a shower of salt from the package she held. Casper screamed as his smoky form dissipated.

When he awoke, he found himself shivering on the ground. He tried to move, but his spirit was weakened. He had never felt that sort of anguish before. It was excruciating, like his form was set on fire, and then doused with a cold splash of icy water. He coughed and sputtered, scanning the area when he realized he was alone. The girl was gone and so was Kat.

Casper groaned trying to hover, but lowered back to the ground realizing his spirit was too weak.

"Kat," he whispered before falling into ghostly slumber. And that was how the Uncles found him the next morning.

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**Stay tuned for the next chapter when Casper meets the boys. And don't forget the uncles, coming soon! Tell us what you guys think so far. We would love to hear some of your predictions on how you think this story is going to play out. Ciao!**


	3. Here Comes Trouble!

**Disclaimer: We don't own the boys, that is all Eric Kripke…lucky bastard! Nor do we own the ghostly gang. But we do own Casper's bucket. You'll understand later. Please don't sue us, the lint's gone! Someone took our offer, so we got nothing! (But the bucket!)**

**So Enjoy!**

"Uh huh…uh huh…hmmm hymph…. thanks Ritchie," Dean said closing his phone and pressing on the gas. "That was Ritchie and he got from a guy who heard from another guy who I think he said might have heard from another guy that they saw a girl fitting Meg's description up somewhere near Friendship, Maine."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "How many people do you have on the look out for her?"

"Quite a few."

Sam nodded in agreement opening the glove compartment and pulling out the atlas. He rubbed his right eye in exhaustion, not really wanting to give up the quest of finding Meg, but also not ready to follow up another lead that might be another bust. They've been roaming all over America for the past month, desperately trying to find the demon bitch, who is the only one who knows the whereabouts of their father.

"So this Ritchie guy. Is he reliable?" Sam questioned over a yawn turning his gaze on his brother.

Dean pondered for a moment before answering. "Yeah. He's reliable." He cocked his head to the side, "-ish."

"What exactly did you tell him?"

When Dean didn't respond immediately, Sam felt his stomach drop. "You didn't tell him the truth, did ya?"

Dean gave him an incredulous look. "Yeah Sam, I told them the truth. I told them that the Colt,_ the_ Colt, the only gun that could kill _any _demon, that we had in _our _possession, got stolen by a _demon_. How many hunters, including Dad, do you think would personally come and kick our asses, and then go after the Colt themselves?"

Sam looked out the window during his brother's sarcastic tirade, and then faced him slowly afterwards. "So…what did you tell them?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "I only told them that the blonde skank is the only one who knows where Dad is, and she's our only clue. Satisfied?"

Sam nodded.

"Wouldn't it be funny though? Kind of ironic?" Dean snickered.

"What?"

"If I had told them the truth, it would be the first time!"

Sam fidgeted in his seat trying to soothe the cramps out of his long legs. They been traveling for five hours non-stop after Ritchie's call and he pondered kicking Dean out of the moving car, so he stop and stretch his legs. _I hate it when Dean gets into one of his modes. He becomes so hell-bent on the mission, he doesn't think about himself or anybody else. I'm hungry._

Sam sighed, unable to handle the silence anymore. "So Dean… How the hell do you think Meg escaped the devils trap?"

"I told ya the first ten times Sammy. She called upon her flying monkeys and they busted her out."

"I'm being serious, Dean."

"Me too. Where's a house when you need one?"

"Dean!"

"I don't know. Okay. Does it look like I have a demon manual tattooed on my forehead?"

"Okay, well, Bobby said that devil's traps are like roach motels, no demons can get out. So here's the question, if she's not a typical demon, then what is she?" Sam stared avidly at Dean, hoping he would have some clue to what they were facing.

"I don't know Sammy. I don't know," Dean frowned.

"Dean, maybe we're in way over our heads, and maybe we need help on this one. Call in a few others to meet us, other than Bobby."

Dean shook his head. "No Sam. Bobby's already doing everything he can on the other side of the country looking for the bitch. We can't involve anybody else. This is our fight. We lost the Colt. We're gonna get it back and we're gonna find Dad. Now shut up and let me drive."

A few minutes later, Dean's face lit up when they passed a road marker sign alerting them they had five miles until they reached Friendship, Maine.

"Friendship, Maine. I hope it's as friendly as advertised," he remarked giddily.

"That reminds me, what is Meg doing up in Friendship anyway? Not exactly a hot spot for demon territory," Sam questioned shifting his body in his seat.

"Maybe she's getting a personality check?" Dean replied.

A mile or two later, they pass a sign for food. Sam perked up. "Can we stop?"

"No," Dean answered curtly keeping his eyes on the road.

A few minutes later, a small local diner came into view. Sam's eyes followed the building as they raced past it. "That was a diner back there!" he exclaimed.

"So?"

Sam huffed. "Uh…I…uh…I gotta use the bathroom," he announced, hoping his brother would get the message and stop soon.

"Use a jar," Dean said off-handedly.

Resigning to defeat, Sam flopped back into his seat, resting his head on the cool glass window.

Dean glanced over and saw his brother pouting admiring his shoes. _Oh god, not the wounded puppy dog look. Twit's probably doing it on purpose. _He glanced at his brother again and realized it had been a long time since they stopped. Dean noticed a sign ahead for a local bar called "Captain Johnny's."

"Oh that's not obvious," Dean whispered under his breath pulling off onto the exit. He figured they both need a break, especially if they want to combat Meg later on. Besides his car, his baby, needed a rest too.

They traveled down a long, windy forested road following the signs to the bar. Eventually, they found a shabby keep along the edge of the road with bright neon lights outlining the windows. They pulled up beside a beat-down truck parked horizontally to the bar's main entrance.

"A bar? It couldn't have been the diner?" Sam whined.

"Hey, its either this or nothing," Dean dictated pointing his finger at Sam

* * *

"Hit me again," Casper ordered slamming his empty glass on the bar top.

The bartender rolled his eyes pouring him another glass of milk. Casper downed the glass in one shot, the remnants of the liquid slid through his ethereal form and landed in the bucket placed strategically beneath him.

Casper slammed the glass down again shattering it. "Oops…sorry Jerry," he covered his mouth, gazing at the bartender innocently.

Jerry, an average-built guy dressed in a leather vest overtop a white tee shirt, gazed intently at the troubled spirit. He worked at the bar for three years and in that time, he never knew Casper to be so sullen.

"Where's the boss?" he asked in a soft, gruff voice.

Casper glanced at him a second before lowering his head down on the bar top.

"Is she okay? I haven't seen her in about a week. Is she on vacation?"

"Something like that. Can I have another?" Casper whispered softly raising the glass.

"I'm sure whatever happened between you and Kat, you guys can work through it. Knowing her and how she feels about you, you guys will make up."

Casper burped. He raised his head staring at Jerry with trepidation. "I can't believe this is happening. I can't believe I did that," he whispered, more to himself.

As he leaned down, Jerry's long ponytail fell over his shoulder. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, just get me another."

"Look I don't know what's wrong with you. And I can't help you if you don't talk to me. But I'm cutting you off. You shouldn't be drowning your sorrows," he advised sweetly.

"What do you know?" Casper replied sadly, his silhouette turning invisible.

The door of the bar swung open and the two brothers entered. They paused scanning the interior of the bar and learned that the only exit available was the one behind them. They walked forward weaving between the round wooden tables that were set parallel to the bar top on the left. Jerry glanced up from wiping the top and motioned with his rag for the boys to take a seat at the nearest table.

"Right there guys. A waitress will be with you in a sec," he said to them.

The guys nodded in affirmation sitting down into creaky wooden chairs. Sam looked around the room, observing the other customers, the entire wall full of various liquors behind the bar, and a forest green marble fireplace with intricate floral designs around an arched hearth.

"Did you know that the oval curvature of the hearth and the floral patterns around it are indicative of the Victorian era?" Sam informed, his eyes beaming with delight at the knowledge he just shared.

Dean gave him blank stare. "Fascinating," he replied nonchalantly. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"I just think it's strange, is all. Or it could mean how old this place really is?"

"Really, and _did you know_ in order to maintain air-speed velocity, a swallow needs to flap its wings forty-three times a second and also coconuts can't migrate," Dean retorted sarcastically.

Sam sat puzzled at his brother's comment. "What does Monty Python have to do with anything?"

"Exactly!"

Echoing footsteps alerted their attention to the waitress who approached their table. She appeared to be middle-aged; the lines etched around her eyes and brows defined the many hardships she encountered in her life.

She gave a weary sigh. "What can I getcha boys?"

Dean donned his most charming smile, intent on alleviating some of the tension on the woman's mind. Then he became serious when her hardened expression didn't change. "Actually Patty," he read off her nametag. "We're looking for someone. Have you seen a short-blonde hair girl, early twenties, maybe about your height, doses a little too much on the steroids?"

"Nope hun, not around this joint. Now what can I getcha here?"

"Two hamburgers, a basket of fries, and two beers please," Sam piped up eagerly giving her a weak tender smirk.

She gave a curt nod before turning on her heel, dragging her feet away, disappearing behind a pair of swinging doors next to the bar.

Sam gaped at Dean in astonishment. "Steroids?"

"What," Dean shrugged defensively. "She's a superbitch."

Sam sighed in annoyance resting his hands around his neck. "Man, we better find her here. This had not better be another bust or I'm gonna strangle somebody, preferably you."

"Why me?"

"Because its you and your _contacts_ that have us chasing red flags up and down and all around this god-forsaken country," he proclaimed anxiously.

"Look Sammy. There is no other way of finding her. We already tried to summon her and it didn't work. Its almost like the bitch has a freakin' demonic HAZ-MAT suite, protecting her from any charm or spell possible. So just chill. We'll find her, and when we do, we're gonna find out where Dad is and send that black-eyed skank back to Hell," he encouraged. He sat back in his chair pondering something. "Once we come up with some kind of supernatural atomic bomb that'll take care of her."

A few feet away, Casper immediately snapped out of his little depressed world when he heard a part of someone's conversation.

_Black eyes?_ He gasped.

He turned around and saw two figures huddled together conversing at the table directly behind him. They didn't strike him as threatening, but they mentioned black eyes. That girl who kidnapped Kat had black eyes. Still in his invisible form, he glided over to the table and hovered behind the shaggy-haired one.

"We need to be a little more descriptive. Who knows how big this town is and how many short-haired blonde chicks matching Meg's description are in it?" Sam said gazing at his brother from under his long bangs.

"Yeah, but how many of those can throw you across the room with the blink of an eye or make you dance and scratch your ass with their mind?"

Casper gasped. _That's her. Do these guys know her? Oh my, maybe they can help me find Kat._ A funny vibe rippled through his ethereal formthat he mistook for his excitement about the newcomers. But then he noticed a certain shift in the air and a rotten taste of sour onions fill his mouth. His eyes widened in shock. There was only one thing he alone can associate that with.

"Oh no," he whispered out loud.

Sam jerked up at the voice and whirled around searching for the source, but found no one near enough to have said it. He shook his head turning back in his seat. _This is becoming a little too much. This must be a sign that I'm really tired if I'm starting to hear voices._

That was all forgotten when the napkins stacked in the middle of the table flew off, scattering in all directions. Puzzled, Dean searched around and found that all the windows were closed shut. His exchanged a glance with his brother who mirrored his own peculiar expression. It was at that moment when they heard an escalating sound of propelling helicopter blades echoing throughout the vicinity. The boys looked all around for the source and that was when they noticed the other patrons on the far side of the room. They appeared like they were preparing for battle. Some were grabbing chairs and wielding them in a defensive manner. Others were smashing the shafts of beer bottles and holding up the remaining broken ends. One couple actually grabbed their forks.

Dean heard a long sigh and looked over at the bartender who rolled his eyes. "Guys, put em' down. You know nothing will work against them."

"No way Jerry. They got one on us last time, we gotta get them this time," one patron yelled.

"Yeah," another shouted. "I had to get my wedgie surgically removed last time."

"Uh huh Hank. Tell me, how is a fork going to stop them?" Jerry asked the customer flippantly.

"I feel safer," the customer responded.

Dean and Sam exchanged nervous glances and immediately whipped out their guns hidden behind the waistband of their jeans.

"Man I hate these damn ghosts," they heard someone shout.

The brothers groaned loudly replacing their weapons in the back of their jeans. They scanned the place and looked for any weapon that would improvise since all their ghost-repellants were in the back of the Impala. Dean turned and saw an iron poker suspended off a rack placed next to the fireplace. He rushed over and grabbed it. Sam desperately looked around and then saw a tiny saltshaker no bigger than his thumb on the table.

"Great," he moaned picking the canister up and unscrewing the top. _Better than nothing. _

Casper saw Sam pick up the saltshaker and froze; the memory of excruciating pain when he came into contact with the condiment last elapsed in his mind. He slowly glided backwards, the fear forcing him to stay away.

The helicopter racket increased in volume then suddenly it ceased abruptly. Everyone looked around puzzled, still in battle formation. An eerie silence followed, the eye of the storm.

Suddenly all the windows and the door burst open simultaneously. A roaring wind rushed through the bar; papers, chairs, or any loose objects levitated in the air, becoming dangerous missiles. The customers all swung their makeshift weapons batting away the flying furniture. Sam and Dean then heard loud cackles of laughter reverberate in the room as they swatted away hundreds of napkins. A patron ran passed them with his shirt flipped over his head and collided with a table and toppled over it.

Casper snapped out of his reverie when he heard the crash. Everyone ran amuck swinging at wild objects and screaming in fright. He then saw the three outlines of his uncles invisibly chasing after the people. He saw one uncle lift a porky man up by his underwear and place him at the top of the chandelier in the middle of the ceiling. The man screamed in pain. "Not again."

Casper raced over to the tallest silhouette. "Guys, guys, stop. You'll scare them away." He pleaded, thinking about the two men who knew about the black-eyed girl.

"Well, that's the point, Cue ball," a voice he only knew to be his Uncle Stretch sneered.

Suddenly, Casper felt something grab onto his head and his backend, stretching him out like pulling back a rubber band.

"Casper, isn't past your bedtime?" Stretch said mischievously.

"Guys, please, they're my only…AGHHHHH," he screamed as Stretch released him, and he shot through the bar wall, only to slam into another wall in someplace dark.

Dean swatted at a chair that flew at him, just as more people were launched in the air. One person flew over the bar top and landed against the wall of liquor. Meanwhile, Jerry continued to wipe and clean glasses, as if uninterested in the chaos around him.

Sam heard something screeching behind him. He whirled around and saw a table sliding speedily towards him. He swung the small canister of salt, the tiny particles flying in an arch through the air. The table stopped abruptly at his hip.

"ARGHHHHHH," a blood-curdling scream sounded in front of him.

Instantly all the chaos stopped. Then Sam sensed a presence behind him and he turned around, coming face to face with a tall, translucent/pale red beady eyed spirit with a foamy curl on the top of his head; its long sloped nose mere inches from Sam's. It glared at him, straightening out to its tallest height, towering over Sam's tall form.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" he enunciated angrily jabbing its ethereal finger into Sam's chest. "Doing that to my brother?" He gave one last shove and knocked Sam onto the table behind him.

"HEY," an angry shout called from behind. The spirit turned around and saw Dean standing with the iron peg raised in a baseball batters' position. "Who the hell do you think you are doing that to _my_ brother?" He swung the weapon through the spirit and watched it dissipate.

Dean went up to the table and helped his brother off of it. He scrunched his nose and gagged when he smelt something awful like roasted sewage. The boys slowly wheeled around to the left and found a small spirit. It had a Hershey-kiss shaped face and bucked teeth, its fingers fidgeting together. Its eyes swiveled back and forth anxiously before it smiled nervously at them.

"Oh what do you know? Look at the time. I think I left the oven on," it replied in a nasally high-pitched tone. It waved with a short three-fingered hand before it disappeared.

Sam turned to Dean with a disapproving look. "And we could've gone to the diner."

The stars finally faded away and Casper focused on his current surroundings. It was dark. So dark he couldn't see his hand an inch from his face. _Where am I?_ He glided blindly, keeping his hands extended, feeling around. Eventually he noticed he was in a box. He kept bumping into objects, what felt like bags or clothing of some sort.

"Okay, I've had enough," he fumed. "I don't have time for this. I need to find those guys." He rose up in the air, intent on floating through the top, but he accidentally slammed into a barrier and fell back to the bottom.

"What is going on? Why can't I get out?"

Suddenly, he heard voices approaching his whereabouts and felt the box jostle from side to side. Then he heard the sound of a car engine starting up and felt its hum vibrate his hiding place.

_I'm in a trunk_.

He felt the car pull out of the gravel parking lot and the driver punch on the gas. The force of the acceleration threw Casper to the back. His spirit lay plastered against the wall, unable to move. _Oh no!_

**Sorry for the wait guys. This chapter was much more difficult to accomplish than we imagined. And it was initially longer, but we decided to split it up. Stay tuned because the story is now starting to pick up. Just to let you know this AU we decided to change Meg's demon status, just to make the story more interesting. Don't worry we will explain later in the story. On another note, we don't actually know if the uncles are true brothers, but in this story they are! Hopefully there won't be a long wait for chapter 4 because we can't wait to do chapter five! ; )**

**see ya!!**


	4. Bang! Bang!

**Disclaimer: Again, our dear fellow readers, we do not own the boys, nor do we own the troublesome ghostly gang. If we did, can you imagine what'd we do to them? Hee Hee! This chapter leads to our favorite chapter: Chapter Five. Warning, there is a tid bit of strong language. Hope you enjoy!**

"I hate ghosts," Dean muttered dusting himself off.

He dropped the iron peg on the floor and faced his brother to see if he was okay. Sam nodded in affirmation.

A tapping noise from behind alerted them to wheel around where they came face to face with the bartender with his arms crossed, who appeared positively annoyed.

"Are you guys blind? Can't you read?" he pointed a sharp finger to the sign above the exit door that they hadn't noticed before. It read:

_No smoking_

_No damaging to property_

_No weapons: Guns, Knives, Flame-throwers, etc._

_No attempted harm or exorcism to volatile spirits_

"Oh you got to be kidding me," Dean exclaimed turning back to the bartender. "What is this a normal fiesta that happens every night?"

The bartender replied with a short 'yep' and went back behind the counter. "Now get out of here."

Dean rolled his eyes grappling Sam around his arm and began dragging him towards the door. "Come on Sam, unless you want to get hung on the chandelier too."

Sam awkwardly glanced up and saw the man still suspended kicking his legs calling out "get me down". Sam cringed following his brother outside into the chilly night air.

"What the hell was up with the bartender? What do you mean we couldn't fight spirits?" Dean questioned irritated.

"What I want to know is how do they know about spirits? Its like they actually knew them," Sam replied.

"This place just sings out weirdness, time to go," Dean remarked opening the car door. He paused before sitting down in the driver's seat catching sight of Sam's forlorn expression. "What's wrong with you?"

Sam sighed and then scuffed the ground. "I didn't get my fries."

"Well you didn't get a wedgie either, so get in the car and lets go," Dean said. They both climbed into the car and Dean fired up the engine. He stomped on the gas petal and lurched the car out of the gravel parking lot, speeding down the long, windy road.

* * *

Casper let out a grunt every time he collided into the walls of the trunk each time the car steered around a curve. He tried to regain his balance, but found he couldn't as long as the force of the acceleration dictated his movement. At one point, he became extremely nauseous, his pale reflection turning a tinge of green. He covered his mouth in hopes of not spewing ectoplasmic chunks on the owner's belongings. _This driver's nuts! I'm going to die…again!_ _I can't take this anymore, I gotta get out!_

"Um…could you help me out!" he cried out.

A muffled voice reached Dean's ears and he turned to his sibling, who appeared sleeping against the passenger window. "What?"

Sam didn't answer.

Dean cocked an eyebrow slapping Sam on the shoulder. "Sam, what'd you say?"

Sam jerked awake rubbing a bleary eye. "What?"

"That's what I'm asking you. What did you say?"

Sam shook his head confused. "I didn't say anything. Let me go back to sleep," he slurred snuggling back against the door.

Dean decided that it might have been a figment of his imagination and turned his attention back to the road.

Casper felt his stomach roll. "Uh, excuse me, but could you pull over?" he called out again.

Dean snapped his head towards Sam again. "Why do you want me to pull over? You gotta take a piss?"

Sam jerked awake again annoyed. "Huh? I don't want you to pull over. I didn't say anything."

"Well, someone said something. I'm not crazy and I'm not going deaf, so it must have been you."

"Apparently you are going deaf, and I always knew you were crazy, because it wasn't me," Sam protested.

"Sam, stop being a child and just admit that you said it."

"Sorry, I didn't," Sam said angrily.

"God Dammit Sam," Dean lashed, pounding his fist against the steering wheel.

"What? You want me to admit that I said something when I didn't," Sam reasoned.

"Yeah," Dean replied in a 'duh' like fashion.

"Well, I didn't and I'm not," Sam snapped back clenching his fist.

"Saaammm," Dean droned out loud.

"Whhhaaaattttt," Sam mimicked.

Casper perked up, his nausea forgotten, when he recognized the two voices. _It's them. The two guys that can help me find Kat. I found them! Oh crap, I making them argue. Kat always told me that first impressions were always important. Oops!_

The trunk was black as night. He couldn't see an inch in front of his face. He started feeling around in hopes of making some racket that would alert the guys to his presence, since calling out to them didn't work so well. His hands went through most things, but when he concentrates he can grab or move things. He concentrated and grabbed an item in front of him and pulled it towards him swiftly.

Bang!

A gunshot rang out and a stray bullet shot through the trunk, through the back seat, in between the boys and hit the stereo, silencing the car. Sam and Dean exchanged shocked expressions.

Casper eyes widened realizing what he held in his hand. _Oh, so that's what it does!_

Dean's eye twitched. "WHAT THE FUCK?" he bellowed steering the car over abruptly and slamming on the breaks. Sam feared for his life bracing himself against the dashboard. The car came to a sudden stop and Dean whipped around staring at the back. His anger increased ten-fold when he saw the gaping hole inside the leather upholstery.

"Ahhhh," he screamed kicking open the door ready to sprint out. But he suddenly was pulled backwards. He launched out again, only to be pulled back again.

Sam softly told him. "Seatbelt."

"I KNOW." Dean glowered at him.

His anger clouded his vision, and he ended up wrestling with the belt, unable to unhook it. He struggled, becoming entangled the more he fought. Sam slowly and carefully reached over and pushed in the button. The seatbelt swung out and Dean, finally free, fled the driver's seat, sprinting to the trunk. Sam quickly unhooked his belt and got out meeting his brother.

"Open the trunk," Dean ordered through clenched teeth, panting heavily, his left eye still twitching.

Sam gave him a stern look. "You open the trunk."

"OPEN THE FUCKING TRUNK," Dean screamed.

"DEAN, CALM DOWN! We don't know what's in there," Sam responded, slightly afraid of his brother's attitude. Sam always knew how tender Dean was with his car, and now without the stereo, he was bound to go off like an atomic bomb. The only thing he felt he could do was, calmly and collectively try to reason with him.

Dean whipped out his gun from the waistband of his jeans switching off the safety. "It won't be there much longer! Open the trunk, Sam."

"No," Sam replied.

Bang!

A new hole appeared through the top of the Impala's trunk. Sam's face cringed turning away, knowing what is about to come. He was not disappointed when his brother flew at the trunk at ludicrous speed struggling to get the key into the lock blinded by fury.

"GOD DAMN MOTHERFUCKER. YOU SON OF A BITCH, I'M GOING TO RIP YOU TO FUCKING SHREDS AND DRAG YOU TO FUCKING HELL MYSELF."

Sam took a step back, falling silent at his brother's rant. He watched as Dean finally managed to throw open the trunk's door and peer inside with his gun aimed. Dean took a step back when he saw that the trunk was empty. He reached in and slowly lifted the hidden floorboard that also had a gaping hole in it.

Dean whipped around to face Sam and screeched, "What the hell is going on here?"

Unbeknownst to the boys, Casper snuck out of the hole before Dean managed to get the trunk open. He hovered behind Sam, in his invisible form, not ready to show himself, nor was he ready to leave either. He needed these guys help. But only until the loud, short one calmed down.

"I don't know," Sam yelled back.

Dean started to pace. "Seriously what the hell? First we had the demented ghost attack at the bar, now we had an invisible pixie shooting up my car. If a leprechaun comes out of that bush," he pointed to a bush on the side of the road, "I give you permission to shoot me now."

Dean turned back to the trunk fuming.

"Man, he sure is a drama queen," a child-like voice spoke next to Sam.

Sam nodded his head. "Yep, try living with him."

"Oh I know I live with three."

Sam nodded in understanding, but then stopped. His eyes widened. _Who am I talking to?_

"So when do you think the drama queen is going to calm down?"

Sam's widened eyes traveled to the side staring at nothing. He tensed feeling that something was there.

Dean halted in the middle of his pacing, giving Sam a stern look. "What'd you call me?"

"Dean, I didn't say anything," Sam replied nervously through clenched teeth, glancing to his right side.

Dean pointed his finger at Sam. "Don't you start that shit again!"

"Dean," Sam growled bobbing his head to the side three times, trying to communicate to his brother that something is right beside him. "I didn't say anything."

Dean didn't get the hint. "Oh so if you didn't say anything, then who did?"

"I'll give you three guesses," Sam continued to say through his teeth.

Dean stared at him like he had three heads. "Oh let me guess, it was the invisible pixie?" he said sarcastically.

Sam shook his head, his eyes swiveling to his side, still trying to indicate the presence beside him.

"The leprechaun?" Dean threw his hands up in the air. "The bush?" he exclaimed.

Sam gazed stupidly at his brother shaking his head. "The bush? I give you three guesses and you say the bush!"

"Well, what else am I supposed to say? Other than you, there is no one else out here who could have said it."

Sam heard a whisper in his ear. "At least he forgot about the car!"

Sam took a deep breath, now angry about the situation. " Okay I've had enough. Who are you? What do you want?" he said out loud, "And stop whispering in my ear," he jumped to the side, his arms flailing around his head as if he were combating invisible flies.

Dean gaped at his brother bewildered. He stood frozen to the spot. "Sam? Feelin' ok?"

Sam turned around. "Who are you?"

"Sam?" Dean said walking towards his brother, who stood with his back turned to him, peering at the empty air.

" Well," the voice echoed again louder causing Dean to freeze in his tracks. "If I reveal myself to you, will you promise not to hurt me."

"Reveal yourself?" Sam questioned, his eyes squinting through the darkness.

"Do you promise?"

"Yeah," Sam replied sweetly.

"Do _you_ promise?" it asked again directed at Dean.

Dean looked around confused. "What?"

"Do you promise?"

"Are you talking to me?"

"I'm looking at you, aren't I?"

"I don't know. Are you?" Dean replied nervously, severely creeped out.

"Oh yeah, you're right. Uh, yes, I am looking at you," it said innocently.

Dean grimaced. "That's just creepy. Yeah, I promise, just hurry up. I feel like an idiot talking to thin air."

Suddenly, a small spirit materialized before them. It had wide innocent blue eyes, with a bald head and a body that tapered at the end. "Hi, I'm Casper." It waved.

The boys gazed at it, not in fear, but in wonderment realizing the spirit was a child.

Sam cautiously took a step forward. "H-hi Casper. I'm Sam and this is my brother, Dean."

Casper turned his big, blue eyes to Dean. "Sorry about your car. I couldn't get out of the trunk."

Dean's eyes narrowed. But Sam waved at him to not start. "That's ok. How'd you get into the trunk?"

"I…uh, sort of got thrown out of the bar and somehow landed in there."

Sam came to a realization. "So it does work."

"What?" Dean asked looking between his brother and the ghost.

"Remember the sigil Bobby and I painted on the roof of the trunk. Bobby said no supernatural creature could get out, once they get in. He said it might help protecting all our gear."

"You painted on my car!"

"Yeah. And for a damn good reason too. And obviously it works…well, not anymore."

"Yeah, sorry about that. I really needed to get your guys attention, and yelling didn't work out so well last time."

"He-ha, I knew I wasn't going crazy," Dean exclaimed.

"Okay, I get why you were in the trunk, but why stick around? Why not leave once you got out?" Sam asked.

Casper's ethereal form rocked back and forth anxiously. "I…uh, I need your help."

The boys stared at him eagerly, waiting for him to continue.

"Just last week, a girl came and took my best friend. She was powerful and I'll never forget those eyes, just like her soul, it wasn't…I don't think it was a soul. It was something else. And then I heard you guys talking about her in the bar…"

"Wait, you've seen Meg?" Dean asked.

"I don't know her name. She didn't say it. I just remember her eyes. They were black as coal."

Sam turned to his brother. "That's her."

"Tell me Casper, why did she take your friend? Was he a psychic?" Dean asked coming up to stand beside Sam.

"_She_. Her name is Kat. All she told me was that a war was coming and that she wanted my help in gathering the ghost community or she'll kill Kat. I need your help. I don't have that kind of power with other ghosts. It doesn't work that way. But she didn't care. Kat…she made her cut herself. I…I couldn't stop it…"

"Okay, okay," Sam interrupted. "Casper, it turns out we're looking for the same girl too. She kidnapped our father and she also stole something from us that is our hope in fighting this war."

Casper gave them a confused expression. "Who are you guys? How do you know about the war she was talking about? And how do you know about," he shuddered, "…salt."

"That's our job. We go around putting spirits, who need it, to rest. And sometimes when they get a little bitchy, salt is something that we use to make the job easier." Dean answered

"Oh!"

"Casper, did you see where she went?" Sam inquired.

"No, she…she did something to Kat. She made her throw salt all over me and I went away. When I came back she was gone and she took Kat with her."

Sam pondered about the information he was just briefed. He turned to Dean. "If she told him to do something, then that means she'll be back."

"And we'll be ready for her," Dean replied dangerously.

"Looks like we're staying in Friendship," Sam said. He turned back to Casper. "We'll help you."

"Thank you," Casper cried out delighted.

The boys went back to the car. Dean shut the trunk door begrudgingly. He stilled before climbing back into the driver's seat facing Casper, who still hovered where they left him. "Hey, where is the nearest motel?"

"Oh, uh…" Casper scratched his head. "Wait, do you need a place to stay?"

"What are you suggesting? I don't do graveyards," Dean said sarcastically.

"No, I live in Whipstaff Manor. You can stay there if you want," Casper shrugged.

"Manor? I kinda like the sound of that," Dean rubbed his stubbled chin. "Okay, we're in!"

* * *

"Welcome to Whipstaff Manor," Casper announced as if he were a tour-guide, opening the grand stained glass doors, revealing the enormous golden foyer with the Victorian style staircases curved along the walls. Sam and Dean gazed with surprise at the size of the place. They glanced at each other simultaneously, each looking like they were recently told they won a trip to Disneyland.

"Cool," Dean said, his voice echoing off the walls. "You live here?"

"Yep. Me, Kat, Dr. Harvey…well he's away on business and won't be back for a long while, and…"

He was interrupted by loud bangs and crashes echoing throughout the room.

"When I get my hands on that chubby, hedgehog bonebag, I'm gonna rip him a new one," Stretch screeched gliding into the foyer from the side wall. "Here, put some more ointment on that," he told to Stinky, who floated behind him carrying a green bottle of aloe, applying some of the liquid gel on his shoulder.

"When I get my hands on that stiltwalkin' shaggy mutt, I'm gonna bend him into a pretzel and roast him on a spit," Fatso snarled placing another butterfly Band-Aid on his round cheek.

"Yeah and I…" Stretch began but then paused sniffing the air. Suddenly the ghostly trio all turned with scowling faces towards the entrance noticing the newly arrived guests.

"You," they sneered simultaneously.

Sam and Dean gazed up at them in shock. Sam leaned towards Casper. "Something you forgot to mention."

Casper giggled nervously. "Guys, meet my uncles."

"Uncles!" Dean exclaimed. He turned his gaze back to the ghosts who now held on to weapons. Stinky held firmly in his grip a medieval silver-ladened sword, pointing it at the brothers. Fatso donned a Robin Hood appearance stretching out a long, wooden bow and loading an arrow onto the frame. And Stretch cocked a shotgun and then smiled mischievously.

Dean gulped. "Oh shit!"

**Dun Dun Dun….The boys finally get to square off with the Uncles in the next chapter. Stay tuned, because we've never been so excited about a chapter before. Reviews are gold! Ciao**!


	5. The Shitith Hath Hitith the Fanith

**Hey Folks…long time no write. Sorry for that! But we were bombarded by the armies of academics and they continued to throw out their bombs or mid-terms. That, along with our hectic schedules not aligning, we had to make due. So hope you still are interested, and onward with the chaos that is our story…or the uncles! ; )**

* * *

Previously:

"Uncles!" Dean exclaimed. He turned his gaze back to the ghosts who now held on to weapons. Stinky held firmly in his grip a medieval silver-ladened sword, pointing it at the brothers. Fatso donned a Robin Hood appearance stretching out a long, wooden bow and loading an arrow onto the frame. And Stretch cocked a shotgun and then smiled mischievously.

Dean gulped. "Oh shit!"

Simultaneously, both boys raised up their hands, backing up slowly towards the sidewall.

"Okay, state park marshmallow men. Let's calm down and talk about this," Dean said nervously.

Sam glanced at him incredulously. _Did he just call them marshmallows? Smooth Dean._

"Talk? Yeah, we'll talk," Stretch responded sarcastically. Suddenly, the shotgun he held in his ethereal hands bucked backwards with a loud 'bang', and Dean felt a force graze the top of his head. He padded his head with his hand and turned around, where he saw several bullet holes outlining his body in the wall. He whirled around and faced the ghosts with a shocked expression.

Sam turned back towards the ghosts after he saw what happened to his brother, and then scrunched his eyes shut as he caught sight of an arrow flying at him with amazing speed. He felt a short breeze between his legs. He looked down to see the arrow lodged in the wall close to his manly area.

"You shot at me, you…" Dean screeched, clenching his fists and striding angrily towards the ghostly trio.

Sam quickly grabbed his brother by the arm, impeding him from going further. "Dean. No. Let's go," Sam half-shouted through clenched teeth, using all his weight in restraining his brother.

They were about to cross the threshold, when the grand doors slammed shut. Sam pulled on the handle desperately, but found they would not budge. Another gunshot sounded and a small windowpane on the door broke.

"Not so fast," they heard a malicious voice call out.

Both turned around cautiously and saw the tall ghost, who previously shot at Dean, now donned a western sheriff's outfit, handling a small handgun with smoke billowing from the barrel.

"I've got a better idea," he replied.

All three uncles glided forward, but stopped when Casper shot up in front of them. "Guys, guys. Stop. Can't we just get along," he pleaded innocently.

The uncles exchanged looks and laughed.

"I'm serious guys…"

"Us too…" Stinky replied. His appearance transforming into a golfer, complete with a flat cap. "Fore," he called swinging a club, smacking Casper out of the room. They all broke into laughter hysterically.

Stretch paused abruptly searching the room, noticing it now was empty. "Hey, where the hell did they go?"

"You idiot, I should kick your ass right here and now," Dean panted running alongside his brother down a long corridor.

"Save it or you won't have to," Sam replied turning onto a corner.

"It was you who said 'no weapons, Dean'. 'Forget about it, Dean.' 'I'm gonna lock the keys in the trunk if you do, Dean'. Yeah, well, nice going, Ace," Dean reprimanded, panting slightly.

"Yeah, well, I didn't want you ganking the little guy after what he did to your car," Sam defended.

"It wasn't at the top of my list, now that we have a lead on Meg, but it certainly is now…here," he rounded another corner pulling Sam with him. But it led down another long hallway. He shook his head in frustration. "How many hallways are there? Where's a freakin' exit?"

"I don't know, but I'm about to jump out a God-forsaken window," Sam panted.

Dean slowed down to a halt with an enlightened expression. "That's actually not a bad idea. Come on," he continued running.

Sam cocked his head to the side, confused that his brother actually agreed with him for once. They took off at a slow jog, scanning the premises for a possible window. Dean glanced into a hallway as they ran past and stopped noticing an emerald grand 'swing-door' windowpane. "Whoa, right here," Dean acknowledged running back towards it.

They jogged up to it and Dean pushed up against the metalworkings. They remained tight and firm.

"Maybe they pull out," Sam suggested.

"I know," Dean snapped pulling on the brass knobs. Again, they would not budge. "Dammit."

Sam peered into the window looking down. "It's not that far down, we can just jump through."

"You're full of great ideas tonight, aren't you?" Dean retorted annoyed.

"You got a better idea?"

"No- alright on three," he said leaning forward, smacking his hands together and running them alongside his legs. "One…two…" he took a deep breath, "…three."

They ran with full force and dove forward.

It happened so quick, neither had a clue of what to make of it. Their bodies suddenly froze in mid-air during their dive and shot backwards, landing forcibly on their backsides.

Dean sat up bewildered. "Heeeyyyy," he drawled. "What the hell was that? This ain't no TV show. There's no rewind button," he yelled out in frustration.

Sam shook his head and steadily rose to his feet. "Come on, let's try it again."

"Okay," Dean agreed, also lifting himself up.

"GO."

They ran at the window again, hoping against hope that it will shatter upon impact this time and they can flee to safety…or at least grab their weapons. They jumped up and both clenched their eyes shut.

SLAM.

Their bodies went rigid as the window refused to cave into their weight and they stuck, plastered against the glass like squashed insects. Sam's cheek painfully adhered to the glass, while Dean's nose openly resembled a pig's snout. Then slowly the boys peeled off the pane and landed with a loud 'plop' on their backs.

Dean raised himself onto his elbows rubbing his nose. He turned towards Sam with a sneer. "Just for the record, that was your bright idea."

Sam groaned, covering his eyes waiting for the 'tweety-birds' to fade away.

"Remember, I'm the handsome one, the brawns of this operation. You're the brains. You need to be on top of this stuff," Dean lectured pushing himself up to his feet.

"I'm sorry," Sam growled. "Supernatural lockdown's aren't my specialty. How was I supposed to know windows are included?"

Dean shrugged helping him up.

_Clank. Clank. Clank._

A loud noise, much like clanging pots, reverberated throughout the vicinity, coming closer to their current location. They jogged to the end of the strip and peeked out over the corner. There, not three yards, was a metallic suit of armor marching in their direction.

Dean let out a little giggle, walking out in the middle of the hallway. "Hey look, it's the tin man," he said giddily. "How fresh can you stay in that can?"

Sam gave him an annoyed glare, stepping up beside him. "Would you stop quoting movies? This is serious."

Dean scoffed. "What? It's a friggin' tin can. We can take him."

He spoke too soon. At that moment, the 'tin can' in question whipped out a pair of 'num-chucks' and began spinning them rapidly all across its structure.

"Show off," both said in unison.

At their comment, the suit of armor threw away the weapons and threw its thick arms out in a karate defense manner. It twisted from one side to the next, making slicing movements with its metallic gloves. It then launched in the air, completing a somersault, landing cat-like on its feet. It spun on one leg, twirling the other in the air. All the while, it made karate ninja noises adding to the effects.

Sam and Dean looked at each other. "Uh-uh." Then they took off down the corridor, running faster than they had been all night.

The suit of armor marched forward.

Casper flew in through the wall. After the uncles pitched him out of the house, he glided back into it as fast as it spirit would allow. The fear of what his uncles would do to his only hope of finding Kat frightened him down to his core. They don't understand. They're just heartless bastards.

He sensed that the two hunters were running throughout the house with the uncles close by. He followed that sense and it led him to the bottom left part of the house with the maze of corridors, the labyrinth of death. The scent of the boys became stronger more towards the back. Soon, he found them running from a suit of armor, he surmised the uncles had retrieved from upstairs. Then a thought struck him. If the uncles had gotten it from upstairs and it was moving, then that must mean…

He flew up behind the marching fiend and searched among its parts for a weak spot, a hole. After locating one in the crook of the back plate, he pulled on the hole. The armor continued, but its pieces began falling away, revealing the uncles stationed on top of one another's shoulders. They gave him a smug look and faded into their invisible forms.

The boys saw a dim lit ahead of them. Believing it was another way out they headed towards it. When the light descended upon them and they ran into the opening, they were sadly disappointed they ended back into the main foyer with the stairwell.

"Dammit," Dean cursed out of breath.

Sam glanced up at the stairs. "Come on, let's try up there," he suggested running towards the stairs. "Maybe we can find some sort of iron, or something?"

"You better be right," Dean warned running up with him. They ran past the first platform and headed up the next flight of stairs. They ran past the ancient grandfather clock. Sam slowed down, doing a double take at the clock, after what appeared like a smiling face in the clock's head. Dean continued up the stairs. He looked around in confusion after hearing a vague whisper, "watch your step".

"Whoa," he yelped when his body suddenly descended through a hologram in the shape of a stair. He grabbed onto a ledge at the last minute, as his body dangling underneath the staircase. "Saaammm."

Sam's eyes widened when his brother disappeared. He ran up and noticed a set of fingers latched over the edge of the top step. "Dean, you okay?"

"No, I just thought I'd hang here for a while. GET ME UP!" he hollered angrily.

Sam grabbed a hold of his wrist and began to pull him up steadily. Suddenly, Fatso floated through the wall next to them. He sang, "I believe _you_ can fly," bumping his hip into Sam's side, causing him to fly over the banister.

"AHHHHHH," Sam screamed, his arms flailing madly around him, as he plummeted down towards the floor appearing as though in slow motion.

Meanwhile, Stretch and Stinky, dressed in maroon choir attires, sang in a gospel tune, "You can fly. You can fly. You can fllllyyyyy…"

Luckily, before Sam met his unwanted date with the floor, Casper swooped in and morphed into a large, fluffy mattress. Sam fell onto his form. However, the soft matter was not sturdy enough to sustain his weight and he still felt the impact. He laid unwilling to move, every muscle in his front aching.

"SAM? SAM? Where'd you go?" Dean called out. He took a deep breath, straining against his weight, and gradually lifting himself out of the hole. He straightened out and leaned over the banister. "SAM? Sam, are you okay?"

All he received was a groan. Eventually, Sam rolled off Casper and laid there panting. Casper remained flat with a squashed/surprised expression, with Sam's imprint still etched in his form. Dean looked all around and saw that the uncles had disappeared. _Oh no._ "Sam, get your ass back up here."

"Are you insane? I'm not coming up those stairs," Sam yelled back.

"Well, I ain't comin' down em'."

"Fine," Sam seethed through clenched teeth, stumbling to his feet. _You so owe me for this._ He cautiously walked up to the edge of the staircase and began his climb up, slowly, his hand latched firmly around the railing.

Dean rolled his eyes at his brother's sluggishness. He whirled around heading into the open passageway. A noise to the left of him caught his attention, leaving him blind-spotted to the door that flew open. It smacked him upside the head and quickly shut. Dean's eyes crossed and he fell back unconscious.

Stretch suddenly appeared snickering overtop of his form. His eyes gleamed with delight as he set himself up for a dive. He leapt up and dove into Dean's slightly jarred mouth.

Eventually, Sam found his way up to the top step. Immediately, he saw Dean's figure lying on the ground unconscious. "Dean!" he called concerned, running to his brother's side.

Dean's eyes snapped open at the call of his name. He looked around in a daze, as Sam helped him up.

"Come on," Sam told him, pulling on his arm. He shrugged Sam's hand off, following behind slightly disconcerted and disoriented.

"Tell me again, what are we looking for?" Dean asked, vaguely unaware of his head bobbing in a rhythmic mode.

"A way out, Dean," Sam replied annoyed. "Or if we can find some sort of iron, or salt that would be better."

"Oh," Dean said, his hips now rolling forward and his arms gliding eloquently past him, as if he was walking the disco. Next, he involuntarily began humming the tune to "Stayin' Alive".

Sam peered at him interested, wondering why he was humming. He paused when he noticed Dean's walking style, which now he was bobbing his shoulders from side to side. "Why are you doing that?"

"I don't know," he whispered anxiously.

All of a sudden, Dean broke out dancing the Macarena. His face grew in alarm the more his body moved out of his control. He pressed his hands to his head. "Make it stop," he pleaded.

"What's going on?"

"I don't know, I think there's something in me," Dean remarked pinching his nose and wiggling to the floor, the diving dance. "I can't stop myself," he said, his pitch nasally through his pinched nose. When he rose up from the dive, his arm shot out at an angle and lowered it down in the opposite direction, like in a disco dance. "Get it out of me," Dean screamed, unnerved by his dancing abilities.

Sam cocked an amused expression. "Actually, I'm kind of enjoying this."

"SAAAAMMMM," Dean cried as his body shimmied and his bottom half danced in circles.

"Okay, it just got weird," Sam retorted.

Upon hearing Dean's cries, Casper re-inflated himself and raced to the top landing. He sped through the hallway and found Dean dancing horribly. He immediately sensed one of his uncles residing within Dean's body, using him as a sort of marionette. He glided as fast as he could and reached within the moving vessel, grasping his uncle by his shoulder and pulling him out.

Dean coughed and sputtered, hunching over a little from his brief possession. Sam came over and supported his shoulder. They turned and saw the tallest uncle smile, then instantly dissipate. A distant clicking sound from behind forced them to whirl around. They looked curiously as Stinky held an ancient camera in his grasp, continuously cranking the shaft on the device.

"Are you filming?" Dean asked dangerously.

Stinky laughed nervously and fled away.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked, forcing back a laugh.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," Dean snapped. He faced Casper. "Where've you been in all this?"

"Dean, stop," Sam interrupted.

"No, this was his idea in bringing us here. What is he going to do to get us out of this mess?"

Casper's expression saddened. "I keep trying to talk to them, but they won't listen."

"Well, you're a little spook, do what you have to do to get this lockdown off, now," Dean demanded angrily, his temper getting the better of him.

Casper nodded sullenly and turned around, gliding away.

"What was that for, Dean? He can't control these guys anymore than we can," Sam reprimanded.

"Yeah, well…"

"_Yeah well_ nothing," Sam said. "He's a child Dean, someone who needs our help. And what you said does nothing to help him or us right now. So please in the future, be a little nice to him or he may decide not to help us when we need it, okay?" Sam lectured with finality in his tone, walking away.

Dean bit his lip, eager to argue back. But deep down, he knew his brother was right. Taking a deep breath, he leaned up against the wall, wanting a moment to breath. Suddenly, he lost his footing and he felt like he was falling backwards. The wall behind him moved backwards and the wall next to him seemed to be flying towards him. Next he rolled over and found himself on a dusty floor, the wall settling in place. _Great. Revolving walls,_ _missing steps, ninja armor. All we need now is a frisky princess and we're set._

He stood up, and noticed he was in a dimly lit room with two beds and cobwebs decorating the entire interior. He heard a giggle behind him. He whirled around to find Stinky lounging on a third bed dressed in red lingerie with his hand propped on his hip giving him a seductive wink. _Or Not!_

" Hello pretty boy," he said in a seductive nasally voice. "Come here often? I don't take large billssss," he said expelling a large plume of green smog into Dean's face.

Dean coughed, staggering backwards. "Get a ticktack," he choked waving his hand persistently. "Better yet, _you_ stay here and I'll go get you a truckload of mouth wash," he gasped running out the nearest door.

* * *

Sam continued on down the hallway rambling on, completely oblivious to his brother missing. "I don't think it's fair that you give Casper such a hard time, I mean if it was me that was missing you would do everything in your power to find me…_And_ I know your probably rolling your eyes at me right now thinking 'here he goes again, lecturing me', but I'm being serious. You need to give the little guy a break. Are you still mad about the car, is that it?"

There was no response

Sam rolled his eyes not bothering to turn around. "The silent treatment, huh? God, you're such a child."

"Am I?" a deep voice behind him relied causing him to freeze in his tracks.

Sam winced. He didn't need a psychic to know what it was. "I'm going to go out on a limb here…the fat one?"

Sam slowly rotated on the spot, scrunching his eyes shut as the ghost waved his arms furiously around his head. He opened them again once the motion stopped, confirming his suspicion that it was indeed the fat uncle dressed in electric orange jumpsuit with crimped blonde hair. In one hand was a pair of scissors, and in the other was a can of hair gel.

The uncle backed off with a criticizing smug look. "You look fabulous darling," he exclaimed in a posh tone.

Sam shakily raised his hand towards his hair, touching the outer edges of it, noticing that it was styled. Terrified, he ran towards a hall mirror to inspect the damage. Sam's jaw dropped when he saw his hair was shaped like horns, similar to Wolverine's hairstyle. He had on bright blue eye shadow smeared over his eyes and eyebrows and hot pink blush shading his cheeks, with a bright ruby red tint to his lips.

"AHHHHHHHH," he screamed, taking off down the hallway away from Fatso. Soon the hallway ended and he was back at the stairs, obviously completing a circle. Forgetting his earlier fear, he flew down them like there was no tomorrow.

Having decided he didn't care anymore, Dean strutted down another hallway that he figured led to absolutely nowhere. After his encounter with Monsieur Sodomy, he ran out like a crazy person, not only in search of his brother, but maybe find a kitchen for some salt (and not because he was hungrier than a hippo!). He found a little spiraling staircase and followed it down, that led to a light blue hallway. Deciding to go along with his instincts, he headed right.

The sound of a helicopter reached his ears and he took off running again, knowing what was close by. He saw a wooden door down a small flight of steps and headed there. He barreled into the door and slammed it shut behind him. He whirled around and felt the butterflies in his stomach flutter; it was the kitchen.

The door on the other side of the room burst open and Sam rushed in, also slamming the door shut behind him. His hair was all askew and something covered the side of his face.

Sam tensed when he felt another presence in the room and whipped around, slumping in relief that it was his brother.

Dean's eyes widened at the makeup adorning his brother's face. He fought back a cackle of laughter, his face turning a bright crimson.

Sam huffed disapprovingly. "Shut up," he scowled, rushing over to the sink and picking up a cloth next to the basin.

"I wouldn't trust that if I were you," Dean said still barricading the door.

"At this point," Sam seethed through his teeth. "I don't care." He rubbed furiously away the makeup, until his skin was more than raw.

The helicopter noise escalated causing the entire kitchen scene to vibrate. They heard a crash and a soft "oomph", and soon Casper appeared on the other side of the dining table. He looked exasperated pulling himself up. "I'm sorry I tried to talk to them, but they would have none of it," he apologized, his big blue eyes pleading into Dean's. He glanced up at the bouncing ceiling, which threatened to collapse. "They're coming!"

Dean let out a long sigh. He turned to Sam, who was combing his hair out with his fingers, the edges stuck up at weird angles. "We gotta find something in here. Help me find some salt, iron, anything…"

They frantically searched throughout the place, tossing out drawers inside the cabinets, upturning pots and pans, and raking through the pantry. They even went as far as digging through the icy stalagmites forming in the freezer.

Casper held on to one of the door's as they searched. But it was no use. The doors burst open, along with the windows, a forceful wind blowing through the area, adding the pandemonium that erupted. The three uncles all glided in through different entrances, each smiling maliciously at the two hunters.

Dean's eyes widened in fear, either that or it was annoyance. He turned to Sam once again. "Sam, distract them," he yelled going back to searching for a salt container.

"What?" Sam cried out in disbelief.

Stinky laughed maniacally rushing forward with his fist pulled back. Sam instinctively took a plate from the counter he stood next to and hurled it at the ghost. The animate object passed through the incorporeal figure, shattering on the wall behind them. Stinky let out a chuckle.

"Boy, he doesn't have a clue," Stretch remarked offensively.

Sam didn't care. He started grabbing anything that was portable and chucked it at the three, whilst Dean searched through the contents of the kitchen one more time. Stretch jeered contorting his body from side to side forming a dumbbell shape avoiding the objects. Stinky mimicked him peering oogly-eyed at Sam as if saying 'bring it on Forrest'. Fatso, however, hovered in a corner eating popcorn out of a 'jack n' crack' box.

Dean's breath's came out in pants, the more he began to realize he wasn't going to find any salt. Casper suddenly appeared by his side. "What do you keep looking for? I keep trying to figure that out."

Dean gave an exasperated sigh. "Salt. I'm looking for salt…" he continued to search, upturning everything in the small kitchen again. "Where's the salt? Why don't you have salt?" he gazed at Casper wild-eyed.

"Ghosts," Casper replied in a 'duh' like fashion.

"But you said your friend lived here. They have to have salt somewhere…"

"But we got rid of it when you know who came," Casper answered innocently.

Dean was on the verge of tears. _Kill me now_. "You're kidding. Great, now what?" He turned around and saw his brother still chucking objects at the three ghosts. Only now Stinky was in a sweat outfit, smacking at the objects with a materialized tennis racket. His brother Stretch was commentating on the match, and Fatso raving like an obsessed fan when Sam took a hit to the gut with a colander.

"I can take you to a safe place," Casper squeaked.

Dean's eye twitched. "Really, that would be so nice," he exclaimed sarcastically.

"I just thought of it now," Casper defended, backing away from Dean's glare.

"What are you waiting for…lets-" Dean began, but was interrupted by a loud screech. They turned and saw two of the uncles staring wide-eyed at the spot where Stinky used to be. "Oh shit," he heard one of them say.

Sam rushed forward and grabbed a hold of a large skillet he just cast. Sam looked at the metallic structure curiously, and read on the back of it 'made of iron'. Sam smirked a little and eyed the other two uncles with delight. Without hesitating, he swung at the tallest one, causing him to disappear with a loud shout. He swung downwards catching the fat one, who tried to escape.

"Heh, good job Sammy," he turned to Casper. "This little place of yours?"

"Follow me," Casper said fleeing from the kitchen. He led them back down the blue hallway and out in the open foyer. He took an immediate right and through a pair of oak doors, revealing a library/office room with a spiral brass staircase leading up to more books. "Hurry," he called flying up to the top of the stairs.

The brothers heard some crashes and echoes somewhere behind them and instantly knew the uncles came back. They ran for the stairs as fast as they could.

"Where is this going to take us Casper?" Sam asked curiously, running along the balcony, meeting the child ghost at a large red reading chair.

"You'll see," he answered offering the chair.

Both brothers looked at it curiously, wondering what it had anything to do with their escape.

The crashes in the back echoed louder. Desperately, Casper pushed Sam first into the chair, and then Dean to sit on top of him. Ignoring their protests, he pulled the string under the lampshade and the boys rolled away.

Sam and Dean grew nervous the faster the chair raced along the track. It spun at the edge of the stairwell and the steps began to run flat. Soon the chair lurched forward and they slid down, disappearing into a hidden floorboard underneath. Casper shook his head at their screams, as they disappeared from sight.

The chair led them down into a dark tunnel. The soft breeze flowing against them from the ride offered no solace to the stifling heat residing within the dark abyss. For a moment, the brothers rode in silence. Then the sound of electricity sparking alerted them all around. Next a light flashed on, illuminating the dark tunnel, and they could see.

Early twentieth century contraptions scattered the sides of the track. Sam peered excitedly at the machinery. He leaned closer over the side of the chair at a device with an electrical current flowing between two antennas. He peered to his left and saw an old-fashioned typewriter enshrouded in an inch of dust.

He heard a machine-like noise and his brother cry out, "What the…" His brother jostled incessantly in his lap. Sam mistaking Dean's restless movements for excitement at the gadgets said, "I know Dean, aren't they cool?"

The chair moved on. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dean wiping his face, but then another extraordinary gadget caught his eye. He leaned more over the chair, ignoring Dean's "what the fu-…*gurgle* gurgle* *gurgle*. Sam rolled his eyes when he heard his brother spitting. "You're such an idiot. Next time, keep your mouth closed for cobwebs, Dean."

Dean leaned back up from spitting out the archaic toothpaste, only to be blasted with foamy shaving cream, covering his entire face.

Sam felt something splash on his arm. "Stop spitting on me," he whined leaning more over to see another gadget that resembled a small TV box.

Dean wiped away the mess from his eyes. He let out a small grunt of fright as the assembly of death…or razors appeared in front of him.

"Dean, you're such a child. It's not that scary. It's only going in one direction, no hills," Sam told him monotonously. The ride soon exited out of the dark tunnel and down a ramp leading into a large underground fortress. Sam peered fascinated, admiring the sophisticated units of machinery, including a large structure standing in the middle of a small pond. The chair continued down the ramp, and Sam saw the room was shaped in a large corbelled arch, with wooden beams supporting its walls. The ride soon finished, ending at a dusty, cluttered desk.

Dean hopped up immediately, cursing up a storm.

Sam gaped at him interested. "What's wrong with you?"

Dean then took off a black bow wrapped around the nape of his neck. "I'm going to kill him," he replied turning around.

Sam's jaw dropped, holding back a grunt of surprise. Dean's hair was split down the middle, smoothed down on each side. Globs of white foam blanketed the top parts of his jacket, and he appeared clean-shaven. "Wha-what the hell happened to you?" he exclaimed trying very hard to hold back his laughter.

Dean caught Sam's crimson face. "Don't even say anything," Dean growled.

"Okay, Pee-Wee Herman."

Dean's eyebrows shot up, obviously aware that something was amiss, from Sam's comment. He rushed over to the murky pond and saw tid bits of his reflection, enough to see the state of his hair.

Casper cringed when the sound of a mortifying war-like yelled echoed throughout the entire house. He gasped. "Oh crap! I forgot about the 'Up and At 'Em' machine."

* * *

**And that's it for the fifth chapter folks. Again, sorry it took so long, but we really wanted to take our time with this one, and also because it took us awhile to finish because we were laughing so hard. Hope you guys enjoyed it. Stay tuned, soon as the plot comes back into the mix, and just maybe the boys will get their revenge on the uncles. Bitter and Sweet!**


	6. Deal or No Deal

**Sorry for the long update. It's been literally hell trying to get together to complete this fic. Now we're taking our time and getting back into the plot. Hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: We do not own the boys, just what we do to the boys. Nor do we own the Casper gang. **

Early the next morning, the three troublesome ghosts glided excitably towards the kitchen after waking from their deathly slumber.

"Did you see the way that shaggy mutt was running? He looked like a Pomeranian who got too close to the electric fence!" Fatso joked settling down in his usual seat at the breakfast table.

"Yeah. Or how about when he took the high dive off the stairs?" Stretch commented, also laughing when Fatso donned a 'that was me' expression. "Two points!"

"And what about the other one?" Stinky asked.

"Oh yeah. Stayin' alive, stayin' alive," Stretch sang bobbing his head. "I couldn't get that song out of my mind."

"Or what's left of it," Stinky mumbled under his breath. He also took a seat in his chair beside Stretch.

"Too bad we let them run amuck all around the house. Their stench is covering almost everything, even the walls. I need my nasal spray!" Stretch complained.

"I'm hungry," Fatso said randomly.

"Name a minute when you're not hungry," Stinky replied sourly.

"I wondered where they went…Actually I'm wondering where Casper went," Stretch said to no one particular, spinning a finger and forming a curl under his ethereal chin. "CASPER!" he bellowed.

"That little glowworm better hurry up. I'm starting to lose weight!" Fatso groused rubbing his large abdomen.

"Where?" Stinky mocked wide-eyed peering around Stretch's lanky form.

"Ah shuddup," Fatso seethed.

"Casper!" Stretch roared again impatiently.

A few seconds later, the small child-like ghost appeared through the door, looking a bit shabby and exhausted. Dark circles contrasted against his reflection under the ovals of his eyes and his hands hung limply by his sides. "You rang," he said to them wearily.

All three of the uncle's tutted. "Casper, could you bring us some tea and biscuits, and some tripe while you're at it," Stretch ordered in a womanly English accent. At that moment, all three simultaneously flipped up their pinkies.

Casper stared at them grudgingly.

"And don't forget the eggs, sausages, pancakes, the hash, and where the HELL have you been?" Fatso hollered angrily sneering at his nephew condescendingly.

Casper rolled his eyes and glided forward reluctantly.

"Come on, get the plates out. Chop. Chop," Stretch demanded slamming his fist on the table.

Casper huffed as he turned around towards the cabinet door. Then a certain defiance sprung up inside him. _If I'm gonna do it, now's the time. No more Mr. Nice Guy!_

He whirled around sharply and faced them with an 'on-a-mission' expression. "I've got something to say, and you will hear me out," he clamored. All the uncles looked at him as if he just announced he was Barbara Streisand. Casper decided not to delay; this was too important and he was too tired to deal with their shenanigans anymore.

"You need to be on your best behavior," he pointed at them with his little finger.

The uncles backed away clutching their chests; their faces grew in mock offense. "Us do something bad. Never heard of such a thing."

"I'm serious."

"Why should we pretend to be nice for those two lug nuts?" Stretch argued.

Casper took a deep breath. "They're helping me to find Kat and they're staying here whether you like it or not," he asserted forcefully.

As usual, the uncles laughed. "Casper finally made a joke."

"You need to promise you'll leave them alone Kat's in trouble and I need their help," Casper piped. The uncles continued to laugh and he felt his patience begin to wear thin.

"Oh and where did the kitty Kat go?" Stinky asked jokingly.

"Probably road kill in the middle of the driveway," Stretch answered sarcastically, then he nudged his plump brother next to him. "Fatso go look and call the Highway Agency. Tell em' to get the scrapers out. We're gonna need a forklift."

Casper slowly began to glow red. "And this is the problem. She was kidnapped and you don't care about that, do you?" he asked through clenched teeth.

Stretch grabbed his chin. "Let me think about that," he said as the Jeopardy theme tune begin to play in the background. "No."

That was the final straw. _That's it. I'm done. _Casper's eyes flashed a bright neon red, and his body grew to five times its normal size, reaching the ceiling; his form took up most of the room.

The uncles' gazes followed Casper's transformation nervously, completely astounded that the ghost in front of them was no longer their gentle, 'flowers-in-the-field' nephew, but a towering terrifying apparition.

"I have lived with you for years and I have let you walk by with so much and have said nothing. I've dealt with your snoring, your eating, and your laundry, even your stupid jokes. You've driven me to the bridge of insanity and dropped me off for the last time. The only time that I've ever truly been happy was when Kat was here and if the only chance I have to find her is those two guys, then I'm not going to let you stand in my way. So either you help me or you GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!"

The uncles have never seen this side to him before and they weren't about to provoke him. Simply, they looked on in fright cowering together back into a corner.

Stretch was the first to recover, raising his nose in the air. "Fine, the two bone bags can stay…but don't forget Casper this isn't just your house, and those two are not just any guys, they're hunters," he sneered.

Casper deflated as his uncle spoke until he was back to his regular size, "I don't care!" he pouted. "They're my only hope…please just promise that you won't do anything!"

Stretch sighed before looking back at his two brothers. "Geesh, I said fine! As long as they don't hurt us, we don't hurt them. Boys if hunters are in the house we got to get the books out of the library."

Casper perked up. _What books? Why would they try to hide them?_ "Um, I can get the books out of the library, just tell me which ones?" he said innocently.

All three of the uncles look at Casper suspiciously for a long moment before glancing at each other. Their expressions kept changing as if they were having a silent conversation amongst themselves determining what course of action to take.

Shrugging, Stinky leaned forward. "They are up on the second level in the glass case, the whole top shelf. Make sure you get all of them," he said furtively.

Casper nodded turning and making his way to the library leaving his uncles in the kitchen.

Stretch smiled devilishly. "Okay boys its show time," he said looking over his shoulder to his brothers.

Stinky and Fatso looked at each other confused before looking back at their tall brother.

"But I thought we promised we wouldn't hurt the two?" Fatso asked scratching his head.

Stretch turned towards his brother. "I said we wouldn't hurt them… I never said anything about not messing with them!" he said smirking, as both of his brothers began to grin as well.

* * *

Casper floated his way up to the library and immediately made a beeline towards the upper level where the lamp that activates the 'up and at em' machine was located. Casper ignored the spiral iron staircase and headed for the glass case on the far left hand side. _I wonder why I never knew about these books before? What are they hiding from me? _

Casper finally reaching the glass case floated up to the top shelf. _You have got to be kidding!_ The top shelf stretched to the other side of the library. _Well ...might as well get started now it might take me awhile._

In reality, it took Casper forty-five minutes to get all the books to the attic where he stashed them into a huge trunk. All of the books were old; older then most of the books in the whole library. None of them had covers or writings on them, making it impossible to tell what the books were about.

"That's it, all fifty accounted for!" Casper said to himself as he rubbed his tiny hands together to get the dust off. I_ better go tell Sam and Dean they can come out now. __H_e glanced down at the books one more time before closing the lid and floating down towards the basement.

He passed through a couple of floors until he came out in the basement carrying a small twig. He glanced around before spotting the two brothers. Casper grimaced. _Oh boy, they are going to kill me!...again! _Dean was lying on top of his father's desk, his head, arms and legs were hanging down off the desk because it was so small. Snores were coming from his open mouth.

Casper moved his gaze to the other brother who was asleep in the cushioned chair, but he was so tall that his head too has dangling at an awkward position. _That does not seem comfortable! _

Casper drifted towards Sam and gently prodded him on his shoulder. "Sam," he whispered. "Sam" he called louder when there was no response.

Sam opened a bleary eye groaning shifting his weight in the seat. "No, Dean ...don't take the pancakes," then fell back asleep.

Casper quirked an eyebrow. "Huh?" _He must be hungry, must be dreaming about food._

Sam smacked his lips together before grinning childishly. Casper tried again. "Sam," he called shaking Sam's shoulder.

Sam opened both eyes this time squinting to see nothing but a cloudy white mass. He eyes widened and he screamed. "I've gone blind!"

Casper coughed, causing Sam to glance up and to see Casper's bright blue eyes. "Oh," Sam said sheepishly before unfolding himself from his sleeping position.

"How was your sleep?" Casper asked innocently, carefully backing away.

Sam glared. "Wonderful," he replied in a monotone. "No thanks to you," he grumbled rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He cricked his neck to the side, where a loud crack resounded. "Where's my brother?"

"Uh...," Casper turned awkwardly glancing at the desk. Sam smirked at his seeing the drool pouring out of the side of his brother's mouth. Sam then pushed himself out of the chair, stretching out his cramped extremities. Annoyed by Dean's booming snores, he strolled over and kicked Dean's foot, which hung over the edge of the desk.

Unexpectantly, Dean's body jerked up, violently rolling over and scrambling, as if he was reaching for something. His body twitched and squirmed causing the clutter on the desk to fly off. "Where's my gun...ahhhh," he yelled with his eyes closed, accidentally rolling off the desk and landing with a loud 'thud'.

Casper and Sam turned crimson from the strain of trying not to laugh. Dean's hand soon plopped back on the desk and he pulled himself with difficulty, eying the two dangerously. "Who did that?"

Both Sam and Casper pointed at each other.

Dean growled straightening up glowering at the little ghost with murder in his eyes.

Casper, sensing the hostility emanating from the hunter, quickly held the twig up. "Olive branch."

Dean reaches forward, grabbed the twig and snapped it in half.

"Okay, maybe not," Casper whispered gliding behind Sam.

"Dean!" Sam warned giving his brother an annoyed glare.

"What! If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't have been forced to play dress up with a freakin' machine!" Dean exclaimed.

"I'm sorry, I forgot about the up and at em' machine!" Casper squeaked.

"The up and what ' em machine?" Dean asked raising his eyebrows.

"The up and at em' machine, my father invented it. He was a great inventor, but he had a little trouble getting up in the morning," Casper said poking his head from behind Sam.

Sam looks over his shoulder at Casper. "An inventor?"

Casper floated out from behind Sam, "Yeah!"

Sam looks beyond Dean before pointing a finger in the direction of the huge arch-shaped machine sitting on top of the pond that looked like something you would find out of a Star Trek movie, "Is that one of his?"

Casper and Dean followed the direction Sam was pointing and noticed the machine. Casper slowly glided forward and briefly touched it reminiscencing about his father and Kat.

"Yes...This is the Lazarus," Casper whispered sadly

Both Sam and Dean gawked in curiousness. Dean found his voice first, "What's it do?"

Casper turned toward the brothers and spoke in a serious manner like he was telling them a secret, " It brings ghosts back to life!"

"What!" they said in unison.

"My father built it to bring me back to life...people thought he was crazy....but it works!"

"Then why don't you use it and become alive again?" Dean asked curiously.

Casper floated back towards the desk, passing through Sam causing him to shudder. He sat on the desk looking down at where his feet would have been, " Because Kat's dad used the last of the formula."

"Why did _he_ use it?" Sam asked confused.

"He died...Kat she needed her father, and he needed her. I wanted Kat to be happy, so I let him use the machine."

Both Sam and Dean were silent pondering over what they were just told. Sam looked back at the machine. _A machine that brings ghosts back to life…I wonder if it could work on any ghost?_

"CRAP!" Dean yelled out unexpectantly, causing the other two to jump.

"What?" Sam questioned.

"My car!" he answered breathing heavily. "If those bastards touched my car, I'll salt and burn their asses and send em' on a one way ticket to Hell."

"They won't," Casper piped. "That's what I came here to tell you. They won't hurt you if you don't hurt them."

"Why do I feel like there's a catch?" Dean inquired, feeling skeptical, especially after what they endured the night before.

"A ghost is bound by their word," Casper answered nervously crossing his fingers behind his back. It wasn't like he could help it; he couldn't control his uncles and their mischief.

Unfortunately, what Casper hadn't taken into account was that he was transparent. Dean's eyes narrowed. "I see that."

Casper laughed nervously. "Well then, let's go back up."

"Well I ain't getting back in that chair again," Dean demanded.

"But it's the only way back up."

Dean gazed at him murderously, then he pointed back at Sam. "You're sitting on top this time."

* * *

Eventually the chair came to a stop by the lamp table in the library. Dean was grumbling even more so than he was down in the basement because Sam hadn't received the same treatment he had in the first go around. They both hopped up from the chair and faced Casper with "what now" expressions.

"I pushed your car into the garage. It's that way," he pointed to the right.

"You touched my car. Haven't ya put enough holes in it already?" Dean groused through clenched teeth.

"Dean," Sam warned him putting a hand in between him and the ghost. "Go to the car."

Dean scowled at him.

"Go to the car," Sam forced.

Mumbling under his breath, Dean obliged strolling down the spiral staircase.

Sam scanned around the large room. "Well I guess I better get to work. We need to find a spell or something that could be powerful enough to trap Meg and get her to talk. But I need to go get some of my books out of the car," he looked at Casper innocently. "I'll just follow the drama queen. Be back in a few." Then he took off down the stairs.

Once the two were out of sight, Casper immediately shot up towards the attic and found his storage trunk. He opened it and gathered a few books and strewn them in a circle around him on the floor.

He then flipped through a couple of them and found nothing that he found relevant. He picked up another and found it remotely odd for it to be in another language and symbols he had no clue how to approach their meaning. He tossed it behind him. He picked up the next book that appeared like it was over a hundred years old; with lots of dust and creaky binding. In this one he found some words he could recognize and patterns that were strange. At first he thought the patterns were out of a coloring book, but he looked at them more closely and saw that they consisted of some of the same symbols out the book he just tossed.

"What are they?" he asked himself.

The more he looked at the symbols and the scripture, it dawned on him. He gasped. "These are spells!"

**And that's it for chapter 6. Sorry for the very, very, very long wait. We'll try to do better next time and hopefully we'll have chapter 7 soon. Thanks for your support! Cheers! **


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